by Elise Kova
“Passed her in the hall.” Shannra paused where Will had been sitting, the small of her back against the high workshop table.
“Right, thanks.”
Florence set out four hollow canisters in a line, looking up at Shannra expectantly. The other woman’s mouth spread into a coy little smile.
“Helen is looking for him?” Florence repeated.
“I may have lied.” The woman’s face lit up with a wide smile.
She shook her head and laughter escaped.
“I hardly get to see you since everyone arrived.” Shannra straightened and stepped over to Florence’s table. Delicately, her fingers fell like fall leaves onto the surface; not a grain of powder was blown out of place or a canister disturbed.
“Help me,” Florence asked, her eyes traversing the line of the woman’s fingers, up her arm, to her face. “I could use an extra set of eyes on this.”
“With pleasure, Flor.”
Shannra was a capable teacher. She explained things thoroughly and kept her expectations both high and reasonable. It made Florence want to learn, want to earn her esteem. It also helped that she was a Revo as well, a journeyman at that, and contained a wealth of knowledge Florence had only just begun to scratch the surface of when she had last worked with a Revo teacher.
Florence watched the woman’s hands carefully, her eyes drifting upward when she knew Shannra wouldn’t see, to admire her face. Another beautiful spirit in her life. But beauty didn’t change that the woman was one of Louie’s minions, a fact Florence had been careful not to forget. Helen, Will, Shannra . . . all had to be kept at arm’s length.
“… and then just fill it to top as you would normally.” Shannra finished her instruction on the canister.
“Is this standard Revolver knowledge?” Shannra was one of the few Florence felt comfortable asking such questions around. She knew the woman wouldn’t belittle her odd guild situation. Anyone in Louie’s company was in no position to speak down to others for odd choices.
“Fairly so.” Shannra nodded and then tapped Florence’s bottle of sulfur. “But you add your own twists to it.”
“Have to keep things interesting.” Florence shrugged.
“Never a dull moment with you, certainly.”
“Speaking of . . .” Florence tugged on the chain connected to one of the buttons of her vest, producing a simple pocket watch. “Almost time for the Tribunal. I should start down.”
“You got it working again,” Shannra appraised.
Florence had discovered the watch among the ruins of Ter.0, a remnant of some bygone days. The front of the watch had an odd design that was almost reminiscent of a wing and some kind of semicircle, but it was too dented to make out the full image. No doubt it had been some Raven’s precious trinket before the world collapsed.
“Arianna,” Florence answered simply.
“You two don’t seem as close as you’d made it sound.” Shannra fell into step.
“Are you probing for Louie?” Florence grabbed her top hat from its peg. “Peg” being a generous descriptor for the bit of gnarled iron that was sticking out from a crumbled section of wall.
“Not this time.”
“This time.” Florence huffed. “How often do our conversations make it back to that Endwig of a man?”
Shannra played with the ends of a handful of hair in thought. “Wait, you think he looks like an Endwig?”
“Most certainly.” The resemblance was a bit of a stretch, if Florence was being fair. But she wasn’t inclined to be fair toward Louie. “White, thin skin. Beady eyes. A taste for living flesh.”
Shannra’s laughter bounced between the walls and straight between Florence’s ribs. She had a beautiful laugh. “A nightmare given form?”
“Yes, describes him well, don’t you think?” Florence tipped her top hat at a passerby, a more frequent occurrence as they continued to descend the tower toward the Hall of the Vicars—as it had become known.
“Don’t be cruel, Flor.”
“I’m being truthful,” Florence insisted. “It just so happens the truth is also cruel.”
“I can’t be too upset with him.”
“Why is that?” Florence asked delicately. Shannra hadn’t spoken much about the circumstances under which she’d come into Louie’s service.
“Well, if I’m probing you for information on his behalf, it gives me an excuse to see you.” Shannra shrugged, back to playing with her hair. “An excuse to talk.”
Her movements combined with her words put a pang of longing in Florence’s heart for something she didn’t quite comprehend. The woman before her was deadly and beautiful, strong and sturdy, yet possessed a vulnerability Florence couldn’t help but be drawn to.
It was all a lie, however. Shannra was Louie’s. Florence knew how the old king of Mercury Town enlisted his help—extreme loyalty or death. So when the cards fell, she would do Louie’s bidding, not her heart’s.
Florence found herself at an impasse, the in-between that seemed to define her life. None of that changed the fact that Shannra was still dodging her question, and Florence had every intention of pointing that out. At least until Arianna appeared.
“Headed down, Flor?” Arianna emerged from the hallway, her violet eyes darting between Florence and Shannra.
“It’s about that time.” Florence patted the pocket where she kept the watch. “Thank you again for fixing it.”
“It was honestly a nice distraction for the evening.” Arianna was wearing her white coat and harness—always armed to the teeth, even among friends. It was a trait Florence admired and was already attempting to embody.
“I will let you know if I find any other such distractions.” Florence flashed her teacher a smile that was reciprocated, however briefly.
“Were it up to the Vicar Revolver, I would have the distraction of manufacturing the Philosopher’s Box.” Arianna’s expression quickly soured. “The man doesn’t seem to understand that creating things is a lot more complex than destroying them.”
Florence coughed softly and it served to remind Arianna that she was no longer in the company of Rivets.
“I didn’t mean to imply that making explosives and ammunition wasn’t complex,” Arianna quickly backtracked, only mildly apologetic. The day Florence saw Arianna genuinely apologize for her thoughts was the day the world had, indeed, ended. “Merely that it is not as instantaneous as pulling a trigger.”
“Especially not when we have still to sort procuring something from Nova,” Florence agreed.
“I heard Louie was asked by the Vicar Raven to look into that.” Arianna looked across Florence to Shannra.
“And how did you hear that?” Shannra arched her eyebrows.
“Louie isn’t the only one who has his ways.” Florence’s chest filled with an odd sort of pride for Arianna’s ability to uncover information. But there was also a twinge of frustration at the fact that she was only just hearing about it. Arianna continued to stare down Shannra. “Well? Does he have a solution for it?”
“Sounds like an excellent discussion for the Tribunal.” Shannra smiled at them both. In a display of boldness, she grabbed Florence’s hand, squeezing it tightly before stepping away. Then, speaking only to Florence: “I’ll see you later, yes?”
Florence could feel Arianna’s stare creeping between her vertebrae. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”
Shannra nodded, and strode ahead into the main atrium.
“Florence . . .” Arianna’s voice was full of caution. “We have to be careful about her.”
“I know, Ari.”
“She’s one of Louie’s.”
“Ari, I know.” Florence rearranged her words so maybe they’d sink in better.
“What sort of things has she been asking you?”
“Don’t worry so much. Louie is on our side.”
“Flor—”
“Ari, let it drop,” Florence demanded with a hard stare. Arianna opened her mouth to protest but quickly abandoned
the idea. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
But I don’t think you know what you’re doing, Florence finished silently. What did she have to do to prove she was capable of organizing herself and others, of defending Loom, of being an active contributor to their future? The more time that passed, the more Florence began to feel like nothing would do it.
She would forever be a student in Arianna’s eyes—a ward.
Florence adjusted her top hat and tilted her face downward. She needed this time to compose herself.
The tribunal room was mostly full by the time she arrived. Florence tugged at her pocket watch as she descended the stairs, popping open the repaired latch to look at the hands within.
“Ah, Florence, what time were we supposed to start again?” Powell asked from where he sat.
She pulled out the pocket watch again. “About another two minutes.”
“Like I told you.” The Vicar Revolver folded his arms where he sat. “Don’t know why you felt the need to ask her.”
“Just getting another data point, Vicar Gregory, no need to get so bothered.” Powell waved off the other man’s short fuse.
“Florence, take your seat,” her vicar demanded.
“I had a question about today’s agenda.” Powell still hadn’t sat down.
“A question you can ask me, as another vicar,” the Gregory insisted.
Florence glanced between the two men and finally ended with a long look at Powell. She hated the feeling of being relegated to the corner when she had something worthwhile to contribute. At least, she thought she did.
“Very well.” Powell spoke as Florence stepped up the risers to where journeymen Revos sat. She should be grateful; technically, she shouldn’t even be in the room. “What are we talking about today, Vicar Gregory?”
“There’s only one thing we need to discuss.” Gregory nodded in Arianna’s direction. “The lack of schematics in her hands.”
“Perhaps we can discuss the lack of a manufacturing line that would necessitate the need for schematics.” Arianna’s remark was dry.
“You will need to share them with us eventually.” The vicar grew more relentless by the day. Florence could only do so much to quell Arianna’s frustration at the fact. If only Gregory would listen to her . . . and if not her, then Arianna at least.
“In all my years, I have never seen a Revolver so interested in a Rivet’s work,” Willard jumped into the fray as he entered the room. “Warms my heart to see you taking such an interest. Now that we are reverting the guilds back to a system of choice, perhaps you wish to come have a seat in the back behind me, and allow another Revolver to assume command? You seem to have a promising student with a talent for uniting us, just there in the back row.”
Gregory looked over his shoulder directly at her. Florence leveled her eyes against him and fought every urge to look away. She was not going to be submissive, not when she’d done nothing wrong, and especially not when another vicar was standing up for her.
“Ah, Vicar Dove,” Powell spoke loudly the second Gregory opened his mouth, cutting off whatever remark the man had been ready to levy against her. “Not a moment too soon.”
The Vicar Raven waved her hand, assuming her seat with a yawn. “Don’t wait on my account.”
Florence resisted the urge to point out that it wasn’t much of a Vicar Tribunal if all the vicars were not present at each meeting.
“Well, I have a question for you, so waiting was a necessity. It’s with regards to harvesting these magical flowers . . .” Powell started.
“As I have said previously, the Ravens are glad to assist.”
Assist how? Florence wanted to ask. She expected some resistance; not everything would go smoothly. But she had foolishly believed that all those present on Loom would band together. It still seemed that the selfish nature of mortals won out from time to time, even in the face of certain devastation.
“I’m a bit curious on the details surrounding the how, Vicar Raven?” Florence asked from the back of the room, drawing all eyes to her. She wanted to hear if Arianna was right, and she’d play dumb if she had to. “After all, I left the Ravens’ Guild. I’m not sure how it all works, getting something from Nova . . .”
“Florence—” Vicar Gregory’s tone had been getting harsher by the day.
“I’m curious about these details as well.” Powell came to her aid. She didn’t know what she’d done to earn such esteem in the man’s eyes, but having the favor of a vicar was priceless.
“Well, since a vicar is asking now . . .” Dove gave Florence a look from the corner of her eyes. “We are currently working on the infrastructure between Loom and Nova, to find a consistent means of transport. Without the ability to pilot a glider, we will need to rely on Dragon intervention. But finding Dragons willing to work against the Dragon King while not endangering our own by drawing attention is difficult.”
Florence rightly didn’t care if Louie was in any sort of danger. That was the line of work he put himself in. But since Vicar Dove was, for whatever reason, keeping Louie’s involvement quiet, Florence couldn’t call out the fact.
She turned to Arianna expectantly. If they needed Dragons, surely House Xin would come to their aid. Florence met her teacher’s eyes, and the other woman remained glued to her seat—and silent.
“Perhaps the Harvesters have some inroads with the Dragons that we could use?” Vicar Dove continued to speak with Powell, but the words were distant.
Why wasn’t Arianna saying anything? She looked over to the Vicar Alchemist, and promptly realized that Cvareh had held his meetings with Sophie, not the vicar that Florence had ushered in by creating a sudden vacancy in the position. No one else really knew of the depth of Cvareh’s involvement beyond her and Ari.
“Perhaps,” Powell replied. “But most of our organ seeds—” he didn’t even acknowledge the Dragons as people, Florence noticed. “—were given to us to cultivate legally by the Dragon King. An avenue I do not think is available to us any longer.” He turned to the masters behind him. “Would any of you . . .”
Arianna still was immobile. Florence stared down at her teacher, but Arianna was doing an excellent job of ignoring her probing gaze. Why wouldn’t she speak? It was for the good of Loom. They had the solution neatly. They could move on from the topic.
What exactly happened between her and Cvareh on Nova?
The question from the first time she had laid eyes on her teacher again crept back to her. Now, more than ever, she was sure of it.
Frustration found its way like a billow of steam up the flue of her throat. If Arianna wasn’t going to say anything, then she would—Vicar Gregory’s growing ire toward her be damned. Somewhere in her, Florence felt bad for outing Arianna, but there wasn’t any other choice. If Arianna wouldn’t do what was best for Loom, Florence would.
The doors to the room were pulled open and a breathless man ran halfway down the stairs before loudly proclaiming, “Rainbows in the sky!”
No one breathed.
Then, chaos.
“What do we do?” Vicar Powell asked no one in particular. Typical Harvester.
“Revolvers, arm yourselves and to vantages!” Vicar Gregory jumped into motion. “Masters, summon the other journeymen. All Revolvers are to take to positions!”
“Vicar Gregory, can my Ravens assist your guns in flying to their stations?” The prior hesitation to work together melted away from Vicar Dove in a moment.
“Yes, while masters convene.” Vicar Gregory gave a firm nod to the other vicar and then continued to bark orders.
Florence stood. She hadn’t been given a position, but she was going to fight anyway.
“Where are you going, Florence?” the Vicar Revolver demanded.
“To where I can be of use.”
“Just stay here. Only Revos were informed of what to do in such a contingency,” Vicar Gregory called back, leaving and taking half the room with him.
“He said to stay here,” Powell called after her.
Florence spun in place, looking at the three of the five guilds who had yet to move. “I am not going to sit here, waiting to die, while we are under attack.” She drew her gun, pointing it to the doorway. “We all thrive, or we all perish—together. There’s no other option for us now.”
“You received an order from the Vicar Revolver,” one of the still-lingering masters with a revolver chamber tattooed on his cheek cautioned her.
“Good thing I’m, apparently, not a Revolver then.” Florence grinned, tapped her own cheek, and left the room behind her.
A pair of hasty footsteps caught up to her, slowing to fall into step with her own strides. Florence looked to her right, instinctively tilting her head upward so that the brim of her hat didn’t hide Arianna’s face. The other woman gripped her shoulder, stopping her in place. Florence’s appreciation quickly melted into the frustration from earlier.
“What will it be, Ari?” Florence looked to the doors before them that led to the waste of Ter.0 in all its crumbling glory. “Are you my enemy or my ally? Will you try to keep me from fighting as well?”
She gave a huff of amusement and lightly took off Florence’s top hat. People moved around them, rushing, shouting, cowering, drawing weapons and steeling their resolve. But for a brief moment, everything seemed to slow.
“You’ll shoot better if you don’t have to tilt your head funny to look up.” Arianna deposited the hat on the window ledge of one of the inner stairwells. “You’ll be upset if it gets damaged, too. Not too many hatteries around here.”
It was madness. The world could be moments from ending, and Florence wore a smile at the gesture of her teacher and friend.
“Let’s go fight some Dragons.” Florence began moving again.
“Let’s hope we don’t have to.” Arianna murmured under her breath. And, just like that, Florence was once more confused by the woman. Did she want to protect Dragons now? What had happened on Nova?